Iraqi Embassy Blues - Reprise
A continuation of:
Embassy Blues - Part One
Iraqi Embassy Blues -Part Two
Have we taken control of the Iraqi embassy in Berlin?
I suppose the short answer to that would be yes.
What would the long answer be?
It would be a very intricate lie.
Then I would say that those people are hostages!
No theyre not. Dont be ridiculous.
Then ask them to leave.
Its their option.
Then tell them they can leave.
I wouldnt want to force them into anything theyre
uncomfortable with. That would be coercion.
Youre keeping them here against their wills then.
Well, I dont suppose theyd want to go anywhere
There are a lot of people with guns outside.
Because of us!
We dont know that. I dont know about you, but
Im not going to just assume why theyre here. Perhaps
its completely unrelated to us. Theres absolutely no
reason to jump to that conclusion. Its just not an intellectually
honest thing to do.
What else could they be here for?
To inspect the plumbing.
To inspect the plumbing?
I dont know. Im not a plumber. Im just
throwing ideas out there.
Some German phrases echoed around the building over a loudspeaker.
What are they saying? I asked.
Hmm... let me see... The German phrases were repeated.
Were here to fix the plumbing, I think.
Theyre here to get us!
Its all a matter of semantics. German is a very rich,
Youre an ass.
Suddenly realizing that wed, most likely, taken over the
Iraqi embassy, I began recounting the events leading up to the moment,
piecing together the clues that, on their own, had seemed so meaningless
and irrelevant: the siege equipment, the tear gas, the commando
outfits, the dancing bear, what I now realized to be a transatlantic
To top it all off, copies of Saddam Husseins novels littered
the building. I picked up a copy of Zabibah and the King
from a nearby table and flipped through it to calm myself, examining
the extensive marginalia.
After a few moments of leisurely reading, cracking sounds were
heard as police stormed the building. I sat quietly, attempting
to prepare an explanation that would believably set forth the circumstances
behind my odd placement within the Iraqi embassy under siege in
a commando outfit, armed with tear gas. Id always wondered
how anyone could possibly get into situations so incriminating,
accidentally overlooking the fact that they were placing themselves
into extremely delicate circumstances such as those at the scene
of a murder, for instance, holding the bloody weapon aloft, or perhaps
those at the scene of a bank robbery, sack of stolen money in hand,
or perhaps those with regard to the Iraqi embassy, in possession
of hostages and tear gas.
I waited in quiet expectation. Nobody came. Very odd, I
thought to myself. I should most certainly be unconscious by
now. Standing, I moved to look through a window. The police
had stormed the building next to ours. I paused in confusion.
Whats going on? I asked, approaching my comrades.
Why arent we in custody yet?
You see, this isnt the Iraqi embassy after all.
No. Not at all.
You mean this is actually a mock embassy?
No. It turns out that weve taken control of the building
next to the Iraqi embassy.
Next to the Iraqi embassy?
Yes. The Iraqi embassy II; the sequel to the Iraqi embassy.
What the hells the sequel to the Iraqi embassy?
The first embassy did so well, they branched off and did
a sequel. And were in it now.
What about the Iraqi embassy?
Some other groups apparently taken that one over.
Oh. But doesnt anyone care about the sequel to the
I guess not.
My comrade shrugged. I guess, overall, nobody really cares
as much about sequels.
They never quite capture the essence of the original,
another of my comrades explained. Theyre usually just
around to capitalize on popularity.
I suppose its all about marketing in the end,
I agreed as we proceeded out of the building. I paused to take one
last look at the sequel to the Iraqi embassy before my eyes were
pulled to a group being led out of the Iraqi embassy beside it.
Although the buildings themselves were nearly identical for all
intents and purposes, I realized that my comrades were right; the
sequel wasnt really as good.
Relieved, I got into the car and contemplated my luck as we sped
off to the sound of squealing tires, tear gas in hand, this time
toward the scene of the real New Years party.